Catch Me Like a Cold
by carved in the sand
Summary: His grin, the most honest, lopsided twist of his lips, is too infectious to be healthy - NaLu


They embraced like weary lovers, with his arm circling her shoulder and her's winding around his middle; sometimes people quietly cooed as they trudged into the hotel. Natsu leaned heavily into Lucy, unable to do much of anything but put one foot in front of the other. Lucy took deep, even breaths, lugging the dragon slayer along with her, paying no mind to the effort she puts in to carry his almost-corpse up to their room.

He is exhausted, barely capable of walking, breathing, the weight of the world sinking into his skin and weighing down his rib cage, slowly turning his bones to dust. It was a difficult job.

After missions like this, without Erza and Gray, where he's completely worn himself out, Lucy lugs him along to a bed, an empty field, somewhere to rest his weary head. She runs her hands through his messy rose locks and says nothing.

It's then, Natsu thinks, that he is able to breathe easier.

* * *

Sometimes Lucy suffocates in the brilliance that is Fairy Tail.

There are mages with fantastic powers and abilities that dwarf her own with ease: dragon slayers who can take down beasts a thousand times their own size, mages who manipulate the elements, sword masters and artists and amazing, amazing people that she would never have dreamt of meeting.

Lucy isn't angry or jealous, but left breathless, unable to draw anything into her lungs, because she's nothing compared to them, nothing, any of them, _nothing_-

But Natsu smiles at her_, _an expectant sort of prideful_,_ like he knew she could only ever succeed. His stare wraps around her spine, braiding around it like steel, and she stands taller than before.

* * *

They yell and screech and snap back and forth, back and forth, back and forth at each other, because even when he could just settle for her fingers tracing invisible constellations on the back of his own, there are appearances to keep up. (And he'd be damned if the rest of the guild coos and cackles at their moments of serenity and carelessness).

So she nags, and he bites back, gives them all the usual.

She asks if it's because he's ashamed of her, one day, of them, ashamed of them and all and all their summer afternoons lying in fields and their smiles and their kisses.

Natsu snorts raucously like she's told a bad joke, rolling his eyes and pulling Lucy into an embrace that all the world can see. Guild members stop and stare at their display, and maybe the earth pauses in its turning, because Natsu Dragneel is holding Lucy Heartphillia by the hips like his hands have always belonged there.

"What's there to be ashamed of?" he asks, sincerity tinged with playfulness and before she can retaliate, his lips are pressing into her own, fashioning lights into her eyes.

The distant roar of the guild echoes in his ears, background music, almost completely drowned out by the thundering of his heart.

* * *

At night, when he comes over to her apartment, they share her bed, and Lucy learns that sleeping with Natsu is an...experience. There are so many new things she learns from him, more than his lips would ever spill consciously.

Except he doesn't really talk in his sleep. He mutters unconsciously, half-words spoken in an almost alien tongue, garbling up each syllable until they're completely swallowed and aspirated by his tongue. He snores obnoxiously loudly when he's having a good dream, and silently fidgety when he's unable to find rest. He does not fall asleep without finding some sort of way to press his skin into her own.

And he snores _loudly_.

His noises rock her to sleep.

(Ten years later, she can't sleep easy without it).

* * *

Natsu loans her his scarf sometimes when it's cold, because the magic in his veins keeps his skin warm, and trips into northern snowy lands aren't the best environment for her favorite mini skirts. Regardless, Lucy's shivering puts him on edge. He always gets it back smelling like peaches and flowers and soft things that was only her, could only be her.

He is quietly disappointed when the scent fades away too fast.

* * *

When he loans her his scarf when it's cold, Lucy wraps it around her neck and raises it past her chin, her lips, up to her nose, where she'll quietly breathe in his scent of old smoke and cinnamon, lazy warmth that was only him, could only _be_ him.

She is extraordinarily depressed when she returns it.

* * *

Natsu isn't quite possessive.

But Lucy was _his_ and _no one else's_, and there wouldn't be _anyone_ who would ever replace him, because he has the most desperate hold on her heart that no one will understand. No one could ever comprehend what she meant to him. So he wraps an arm around her shoulder like only _he_ ever could, physically changing the atmosphere wherever they go.

Lucy's still dismayed, lecturing him for all the things he destroyed in his wake as they walk through the streets of Magnolia, leans into his chest like she's done millions of times in the moments where they're alone. They are the same, and they are still walking through the same streets, still fighting with the same redhead sword master and ice mage, but the difference such a casual embrace could make nearly scares him.

He likes it, the way she leans into him like she's _his_.

And everyone within a ten-mile radius knows that Lucy unequivocally belongs to him.

* * *

Lucy knows damn well that she's possessive.

And she damn well knows that she owns all their half-embraces, his arm, his chest, the juncture between his shoulder and throat where she'll discreetly kiss when he plays with the hair falling over the nape of her neck. She damn well knows she owns all his kisses, touches, wants, every burning desire. She damn well knows that she has Natsu wrapped around her finger. She damn well knows that if she batted her eyes with just a tilt of her head, he'd be at her mercy. She damn well knew she owned the calluses stretching over his knuckles as they brushed over the naked skin of her hipbone, back and forth, back and forth, sending shivers up her spine.

It was simply another way she expressed her feelings for him – the fact that she loved him too much _not_ to be possessive, _not_ to want to keep his eyes focused on her.

But _oh,_ was greedy for his eyes, streetlights glittering bright onto rain-soaked pavement while the world still slept. The way he'd focus on her sometimes made her feel like the only entertaining thing in a world of nighttime darkness.

And she damn well knew she was the only one he should be looking at that way.

* * *

During the New Years party in the guild, he follows her with his eyes as discreetly as possible when he's not fighting with Gray or Gajeel over food, because Lucy looks much more stunning than usual, because her dress a stunning red, her smile lit up the room, and her laughter was tinkling, bright and shimmering and drawing his attention every time she walked by. She smiles a lot. Sometimes it's at her friends, who talk and laugh with her during the festivities, and sometimes it's at him with an added twinkle in the hearth of her eyes.

Lucy bites her lip as she looks away and does horrible, horrible things to his body. Natsu's throat gets dry too quickly, stuffing up his throat, and it gets too tiresome to attempt to take part of the feast.

He's starving, hungry for her lips and her skin under that _dress_-

Abruptly, he stands from the table, wipes the grease from his face, and stalks away.

* * *

Blood red, lace trimming, high neck, long sleeves, and the skirt falling just inches over her thighs; this is a dress that could turn desire into unimaginable dreams. She felt it the second she laid eyes on it, the sort of lip-tingling, subtle _power_ of this dress. Every time she caught her reflection, Lucy smiled to herself like a child on Christmas Eve ready for her present - like she was even planning on taking tonight.

She planned to give - give herself and this dress and her desire to Natsu tonight.

When he pulled her into the crowd of drunken mages as they began to count down the final minute of the year, he looked at her with ten different emotions flashing behind the black depths, an almost nervous smile is pulling at the corner of her lips, because he's in a suit and _smells_ too good, _looks_ too good, looking at her with eyes that turn her ankles into water.

Natsu's kiss is hot and raises goosebumps on her skin. He pulls away, crookedly smiling at her and Lucy can feel her pulse in her ears, beating in time to the slamming of her heart against her ribs, filling her up like hot air.

* * *

He trails his tongue at the base of her throat and burns of the sound of her breathy laughter into the back of his head. Natsu brushed his hand over her hip rhythmically, hazy eyes trailing over the lacy bra, smooth skin, then back up to her lips, full and pink and not yet loosening to let her tongue twist out his name. (_Yet_.) The air around them had been filled with something corrosive that burns the inside of his lungs, but it's dampened by the scent of Lucy's skin, a fog wafting sweetness though his head. He leaned into to Lucy's face, close enough to see the lust sharpening her gaze and the flushed pink tinge on the apples of her cheeks.

He kissed her hotly, pressing his frame into her own, biting down on her lower lip and drawing blood. She laughs a bit louder this time, grabbing onto his tie and pulling him slightly away.

"Now why are you fully dressed and I'm in my bra already?"

"I really don't know how this tie works."

Lucy giggles, quickly undoing the knot, and then unbuttoning his shirt, slipping it off with his coat jacket, and then reaching for the buckle of his pants before tossing it aside as well.

"You may continue," she announced coyly.

Natsu merely grinned as his fingers slipped between her thighs, pressing his bare chest into her's as she arched her back into him, moaning.

* * *

His grin, the most honest lopsided twist of his lips, is too infectious to be healthy.

And she watches him spill stories of Igneel, stories of adventures, fairy tales, and his favorite fights past his lips underneath the ink sky dotted with lights, soaking in the brilliance of his contentment.


End file.
